


Spilt Milk

by Titivillus



Series: The Sith's Informant [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Cumshot, Lactation Kink, M/M, Male Lactation, Masturbation, Nursing Kink, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-30 15:10:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8537851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titivillus/pseuds/Titivillus
Summary: During a tryst with Maul, Obi-Wan discovers that some Dathomirian Zabrak males boast a very interesting biological quirk.





	

**Author's Note:**

> aight so you're probably here out of morbid curiosity. first things first - if this ain't your thing and you're just looking to punish yourself by reading this: don't. you don't really want to. go find some wholesome fic and have yourself a good time. otherwise there is only regret for you here and you have only yourself to blame. :<
> 
> this is set in the same universe as ['yield'](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8020255/chapters/18361798). a rundown if you're unfamiliar: set a couple of years or so prior to 'the phantom menace'. maul is a sith apprentice as he is in canon, whilst obi-wan is both a jedi padawan and a self-interested spy who sells jedi secrets.
> 
> warnings:  
> \- male lactation  
> \- adult nursing  
> \- some reluctance and embarrassment/shame displayed by one character  
> \- one partner cums on an area of the other partner's body

Obi-Wan’s favourite perk of working in conjunction with the Sith was his regular access to the apprentice known as Darth Maul. Maul was a Zabrak of the rare Dathomiri variety; as beautiful as he was bad-tempered and ill-adjusted, and easily one of the most interesting lovers Kenobi had ever had the pleasure of bedding.

Ever since a mission involving a strip club and exotic dancer attire had led to them becoming intimately entangled, Obi-Wan and Maul had begun seeing each other on a semi-regular basis. They seized opportunities whenever they arose in order to meet and blow off steam with one another – which was, as luck would have it, a little more regularly than either of them could have dared to hope. It was just sex, of course; Maul maintained that he couldn’t stand Obi-Wan every time they met in usual circumstances, and Obi-Wan was not interested in exclusivity (even if many of his other partners failed to measure up to Maul in terms of fun).

That particular night, they had rendezvoused in a pleasant-enough Coruscanti hotel, their meeting place a room that Obi-Wan had scored with his ever-impressive networking skills. Within about five minutes of their coming together, Obi-Wan found himself sat comfortably on the edge of the room’s bed with Maul perched on his lap. Neither of them had fully disrobed; Obi-Wan had only lost his outer cloak, and Maul was down to the dark under tunic he had donned that day, though it was fully parted and had fallen off his shoulders, hanging low on his arms as he pawed with his usual abashed uncertainty at Obi-Wan’s chest.

“Such handsome patterning,” Obi-Wan crooned, tracing the markings on Maul’s stomach and watching the muscles there flutter beneath the delicate touch. This had become a ritual feature of their trysts; Obi-Wan enjoyed being gentle with his Sith because it elicited such lovely reactions, and Maul – for all that he would deny his love of praise if challenged - soaked up every pretty word Obi-Wan threw his way.

That night, however, something was definitely _up_. As Obi-Wan’s hand travelled up towards Maul’s pecs, the Sith froze, and pulled away slightly, almost as though he was anticipating pain.

Indeed, Obi-Wan had noticed that night that Maul would flinch minutely every time he was touched on or near to his upper chest. Having slept with the touch-starved Sith lord enough times to have some feel for his behaviours, Obi-Wan was quite aware that he could be a little jumpy until he’d been eased properly into things – but this usually generalised to touch anywhere, not specific non-sexual areas. Certainly, his chest had never been a problem zone in the past.

“Are you alright, Maul?” Obi-Wan asked, quirking a brow in question and seeking Maul’s gaze. “You seem a little on edge tonight. Is something wrong?”

“No,” Maul said, too quickly, and without meeting Obi-Wan’s eyes. His voice was pitched just a little too high to convince Obi-Wan of the truth in his words. “No, nothing’s wrong. Just… get on with it. My time is not unlimited the way _yours_ seems to be.”

“Well,” Obi-Wan said, breathing an exaggerated sigh as he again trailed a hand lightly up Maul’s stomach, heading for the pleasant swell of his chest. “If you’re _sure_ nothing’s bothering you…“

Maul inhaled sharply as Obi-Wan’s hands covered his pecs, gripping about them momentarily in a playful squeeze.

“You don’t usually freeze up like this when I play with these,” Obi-Wan teased. “Perhaps you’d like me to stop..?”

“… n-no,” Maul stammered, tone wavering as well and utterly ruining his attempt to sound resolute. There was little he despised more than backing down when Obi-Wan started acting all smug and self-assured.

“ _Relax,_ then,” Obi-Wan said, smoothing his hands down Maul’s pecs and delighting at the feel of his coarse skin underhand. “Let’s get back to things.”

Had Obi-Wan known that Maul’s upper chest was so sensitive, he would have lavished more attention on it in their past encounters. Maul was squirming and gritting his teeth against moans as Obi-Wan palmed at the stiff muscle there –

Stiff muscle that felt maybe a little _too_ stiff, even on someone so well-conditioned as Maul. There was little give there at all – almost as if something beneath the skin was swollen and needed relief –

And then Maul _yelped_ as a palm brushed over one of his nipples, and Obi-Wan froze as his hand came away wet.

Neither Obi-Wan nor Maul said a word. Obi-Wan, for his part, tentatively lifted his hands away from his partner’s skin, baring Maul’s chest to his curious gaze. He watched, utterly spellbound, as tiny droplets of opaque liquid began to bead on the nipple he’d chanced to touch. Indeed, on further inspection, Obi-Wan found himself puzzling over how had he failed to notice just how puffy and swollen Maul’s nipples were that night; they were usually so flat and well-camouflaged amidst the vivid red and black of Maul’s hide that they were only really visible if one purposefully sought them out – but there they were, pouty and soft and inexplicably _leaking_ \- all but _begging_ for attention.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said stupidly after a few long moments elapsed.

Maul had turned his face away, eyes shut and mouth drawn in a tight, humiliated grimace. A moment, later, he braced his hands against Obi-Wan’s shoulders and tensed, as if intending to push off of the human’s lap – no doubt to flee before things got any more awkward.

“Easy, gorgeous,” Obi-Wan soothed, taking Maul’s hips in hand and petting them in soft, quieting motions. Maul halted his retreat and settled some, but folded his arms over his torso and dipped his head, refusing to meet Obi-Wan’s eyes. “Shh. Don’t bolt on me now. I’m not put-off, or repulsed, or any such thing. Just – well, surprised. You’re – that is, I mean –“ Obi-Wan gulped, finding his mouth had gone dry in the midst of his arousal and sheer fascination. “It is… _milk_ , isn’t it?”

No response for a few moments, and then a small, curt nod from Maul.

“It’s… not uncommon in my species,” Maul muttered when a few more seconds had elapsed, eyes averted. “I - looked into it the first time I was affected. Something to do with the segregation of males and females on Dathomir, and the need to fill certain… biological niches, if you will.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said again, voice almost distant as his eyes dropped to Maul’s swollen chest. His mind wasn’t particularly interested in the minutiae of the ‘why’ – too fixated on the reality of Maul all full and brimming with milk that clearly needed to be expressed. “I see.”

Maul shifted uncomfortably, and made to draw his arms up a little higher to better cover himself – but Obi-Wan reached out, touching an imploring hand to one of Maul’s forearms. Maul looked at him, a quizzical expression overriding the shame for a moment.

“You needn’t cover up,” Obi-Wan said, trying his best to keep his voice measured against the ravenous lust this revelation had aroused. “Perhaps I could… assist you?”

Maul searched Obi-Wan’s face, sure that the human would, at any moment, start to laugh, perhaps mock him over his strange affliction – but he only found sincerity, and something oddly close to boyish excitement in his companion’s expression. Slowly, not without a little reluctance, Maul unfolded his arms and lowered them to his sides, giving Obi-Wan unimpeded access to his chest once again.

It was all Obi-Wan could do not to jump straight back to action. He checked himself, knowing that Maul would not appreciate being grabbed at, and instead came to rest his hands over the Sith’s engorged pecs. He moved his hands carefully down the sweeping curve of Maul’s upper chest, mindful not to brush against his oversensitive nipples.

“Oh, my poor, beautiful Sith,” Obi-Wan said indulgently. “This must be _so_ uncomfortable for you.”

Maul squirmed a little on Obi-Wan’s lap, and he raised his hands to grip at his companion’s shoulders, though he did not otherwise respond.

“Why don’t I help alleviate the worst of it?” Obi-Wan said, cupping both hands underneath Maul’s swollen pecs and curling his hands around them both simultaneously in a gentle pressing motion. Maul cried out, and shifted his hips forward on Obi-Wan’s lap as the careful pressure from his companion’s hands coaxed droplets of pearly milk to the surface of his nipples. “There. Does that help at all?”

Maul nodded breathlessly. He tipped his head back and shuddered as Obi-Wan repeated the motion once, twice, milking him in so careful and methodical a manner that Maul could _feel_ his body acquiescing to it, giving a little more with every squeeze.

“Is this okay?” Obi-Wan asked, voice breathy with wonder.

“Yes –“ Maul bit out between gasps. “Ah – _Kenobi_ –“

Maul arched his back, pushing his chest hard into the perfect movement of Obi-Wan’s hands. Obi-Wan, for his part, got rather a closer look at Maul’s full chest – and _kriff_ , was it mouth-watering to behold. Maul’s pecs were wet, nipples swollen and needy, dripping opaque, early milk readily with every steady press of Obi-Wan’s hands. If he wasn’t imagining things, he could even _smell_ _it_ on Maul, his usual musk softened with the sweet aroma of fresh milk. He wondered what it would be like to _taste_ …

Giddy with arousal and unable to resist the sudden urge, Obi-Wan dropped his hands to Maul’s waist and took one wet, pouty nub into his hungry mouth.

Maul _wailed_. In all the weeks, months, _years_ he’d been afflicted with this damned curse of nature, he’d never had another being _drink_ from him – nor would he ever have expected anyone to do so with such ready, willing determination. Obi-Wan was rough and sloppy in his eagerness, drawing his milk in hard, guzzling sucks until it became too overwhelming for Maul to bear, and he whined his discomfort. Obi-Wan glanced up apologetically at the pained sound, and eased off. He began to work his lips and tongue against the yielding peak, creating a suction altogether softer, far easier on Maul without sacrificing effectiveness. To aid his gentler attempt, Obi-Wan lifted a hand back up to the pec he was drinking from, pressing gently and moaning with primal satisfaction when the action optimised the flow of milk, giving him all he wanted. Maul arched into the eager suckling, trembling and moaning and savouring the unique sensations of Obi-Wan’s soft lips and warm, wet tongue against his needy flesh.

The longer he spent at Maul’s chest, the more Obi-Wan found his inhibitions slipping into nothingness. His mind was dizzy, lost in a pleasant haze of sensation as he drank. The milk was delightfully warm, and far sweeter than Obi-Wan could have anticipated, so much so that he let it linger over his tongue before swallowing it down to make way for more. Though the consistency had started out thin and watery, it thickened and became almost creamy as Obi-Wan continued, becoming all the more satisfying the longer he went on.

If Maul had any qualms left about nursing his fallen Jedi, he certainly wasn’t airing them. He threaded a hand into Obi-Wan’s hair to hold him in place, gasping soft, breathy moans as the human worked his aching pec and suckled gamely. Maul was even purring, though was hardly aware he was doing do. With the physical sensations came waves of pleasant, soothing feelings that Maul was not well acquainted with – soft, concentrated rushes of affection unlike anything Maul could recall experiencing before. He felt a swell of genuine fondness for Obi-Wan; the ridiculous, infuriating informant who treated him better than any other being Maul had ever known – even if it was only in the pursuit of sex. The combination of the pleasurable relief and this new, intimate appreciation for the insufferable human he couldn’t stop bedding might have proved overwhelming, had Maul not become distracted by a pang in one side of his upper torso.

For, though Obi-Wan was working one half of his needy chest perfectly, it had became impossible for Maul to ignore the ache in the other. It had built to a dull throb, desperate for the same manner of attention as its neighbour was in receipt of. Self-consciousness long since overridden, Maul brought a hand to his neglected pec. His movements were somewhat less confident than Kenobi’s – he rarely self-serviced, thanks to a combination of disgust and the knowledge that he would be afflicted with this state of being for longer periods of time if he gave in – but it was enough to stave off the near-pain that a lack of attention inspired.

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how much time he had spent at Maul’s chest when the flow of milk began to subside. He groaned indignantly into the soft flesh when he found he could draw no more of the sweet fluid from his Sith, lips and tongue still working with fruitless vigour for some time after the supply had run dry. Finally, reluctantly, he pulled away, licking his wet lips to catch what he could of the milk that had spilt out of his mouth during his greedy suckling – and then he saw Maul working the pec  he hadn’t yet sampled. He gaped for a moment, always so enamoured by the sight of his beautiful Sith, usually so composed and proper, gripped with desperate, animal need. Maul’s hand moved with a clumsy sort of desperation, too rough and inconsistent in its attempt at expressing to be completely effective (though, to Maul’s credit, his chest was streaked impressively with what milk he had managed to press out).

But _oh_ , so much had gone to _waste_ – and Obi-Wan found that he was rather offended by the loss of any of such a rare delicacy. With scarcely another thought, Obi-Wan took Maul’s wrist in a firm grip and commandeered the Zabrak’s hand away from the messy job it was making of expressing.

Maul tensed. He looked to Obi-Wan uncertainly, as though fearing he’d made a grave error somewhere along the way.

“Shh,” Obi-Wan soothed, pressing a quick, reassuring kiss to Maul’s throat. “Nothing’s wrong – but I’m taking over now.”

With that, he lowered his head, wishing their position would allow him to reach the dip at Maul’s hip where some of the clear fluid had pooled; but it wasn’t possible, and Obi-Wan was loath to manhandle Maul into a new position when his lovely Sith was so blissed out. He lapped, instead, at the lowest point he could reach of the wet trails the spent milk had streaked down, following them up to the hard peak of Maul’s nipple. Obi-Wan took it into his mouth, as eagerly as he had the other, and began to suckle anew. He lifted a hand to Maul’s pec, kneading it, willing the flow of milk into something steady and satisfying as he had with the other.

Maul pressed into Obi-Wan’s mouth, _needing_ the relief his human was providing so beautifully. He gasped when Obi-Wan’s free hand brushed over his uncovered nipple, then groaned when the human began to gently tug and roll the spent teat between his fingers. The nub was sore, sensitive from the earlier attention – almost _too_ sensitive, the touch straddling the fine line of pain and pleasure – but Maul found that he wanted the treatment nonetheless. He gripped at the back of Obi-Wan’s neck, heady with the maelstrom of arousal, affection, and relief their taboo activity had brought on, wanting nothing more than to continue and keep Kenobi close.

Obi-Wan whined audibly when the supply of milk began to thin as it had before. The stuff was addictively good, and the thought of being deprived of it from then on was rather heartbreaking. But he could not pull any more from the Sith, and it had become clear from the pained undertone to Maul’s whines that it would be cruel to continue suckling dry. He unlatched reluctantly, lapping gently at the swollen flesh before pulling away to look at Maul. Their eyes met; Obi-Wan’s half-lidded with milk-drunk satisfaction, Maul’s wide, dark, and shy.

Obi-Wan felt a great rush of fresh adoration for Maul. He drew him abruptly into a tight embrace, nuzzling at his neck and sighing when Maul’s initial freeze reaction melted into easy, trusting relaxation. It should have been forbidden for a being so proud and deadly to break down into such a delicate, sensuous thing behind closed doors. The duality in the Sith lord was difficult to uncover, but oh, so incredible to behold when it was exposed.

“You divine creature,” Obi-Wan murmured, peppering Maul’s throat and shoulders with kisses and petting the sleek muscle of his flanks. “You drive me mad, do you know that?”

Maul whimpered and nodded mindlessly, clinging to Obi-Wan like a lifeline. He leant in and began to mouth at Obi-Wan’s neck, lips tickling and breath playing hot over the skin there. Obi-Wan laughed elatedly; it was _so_ rare for Maul to act in mutual physical affection. He must’ve been particularly deep in his own head that night. Maul began to rock on Obi-Wan’s lap and whimper as he lavished attention on Obi-Wan’s throat. Curious, and with a hunch that Maul might need attending to in a more… _specific_ way, Obi-Wan carefully leant back and put his hands on Maul’s shoulders. He began to trail them down the Zabrak’s leathery skin. Maul cried out as Obi-Wan’s hands paused on their journey to pinch simultaneously at the spent peaks of his nipples – but the noise shuddered into a moan as his human pressed lower and palmed assertively over the clothed outline of his hard cock.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan breathed, affecting mock-surprise and curling his fingers around the pronounced bulge. “And here I thought I was _done_ milking you. Shall I finish what I started, Maul?”

Maul nodded desperately, rocking into Obi-Wan’s hand with a needy moan.

“Here then, sweetheart,” Obi-Wan said, voice thick with desire. “Let me sample the rest of you.”

Obi-Wan took Maul about the waist. In one swift movement, he reversed their positions, so that Maul was sitting on the edge of the bed with Obi-Wan between his legs. Maul looked down at him inquisitively, but said nothing; he was, Obi-Wan knew, in that place where words failed him, necessitating communication via body language and abstract vocalisations instead.

So Obi-Wan was not surprised when the obligatory ‘may I?’ he voiced as he reached to free Maul’s straining cock from the confines of his clothing was met with nought but an enthusiastic nod and a pretty whine from the Sith.

Obi-Wan took a moment to appreciate the visual splendour of Maul’s cock when he succeeded in exposing it to the open air. It was such an attractive thing; beautifully patterned, perfectly proportioned, already all all slick and shiny with the excessive precum Maul’s arousal drew forth. He ghosted his fingers over the shaft, noting that the fleshy barbs along the topside were flushed stiff with increased bloodflow, as they were wont to when Maul was approaching orgasm.

He wasn’t going to last long at all.

Obi-Wan closed his hand around the base of Maul’s cock, squeezing lightly just to hear Maul whimper. He dropped his head and drew the tapered tip into his mouth. The musky taste was entirely at odds with the milk Obi-Wan had had his fill of mere minutes before – but it was not an altogether unwelcome difference, and Obi-Wan quickly set to coaxing pre from the slit at the tip, massaging the underside of the head with his tongue and applying gentle suction as he went. Maul moaned as Obi-Wan serviced him, slipping a hand behind his head and grasping at his short ponytail. Once his lips slipped beneath the Zabrak’s coronal ridge, Obi-Wan didn’t bother to descend any further; Maul’s shallow, inhibited thrusts had already grown stilted and erratic, and the noises he was making became higher and breathier with every slight bit of pressure or suction Obi-Wan applied.

When Maul came, it was with a long, shuddering moan, his hand gripping tight in his companion’s hair. Obi-Wan swallowed the copious output of cum back with expert ease, and felt the barbs on Maul’s corona prick against his hard palette as climax forced them into full flare. He loosened his grip on the base of Maul’s cock, running his fingers over the barbs on the topside and feeling them pulse hard with the rhythm of Maul’s ejaculation. Obi-Wan had still yet to be fucked by Maul, and he found himself growing ever more morbidly curious as to whether the barbs would just be stimulating or genuinely painful in-use.

He suckled gently at the head of Maul’s cock, pumping his shaft firmly a couple of times to dredge out the last of his seed. Once satisfied that he had well and truly milked Maul for all he was worth, Obi-Wan pulled off. He didn’t moved for a few indulgent moments, instead resting his head against Maul’s inner thigh and languishing, sated.

Or, as an urgent throb from his crotch indignantly signalled, not quite sated completely.

Obi-Wan rose unsteadily to his feet. Maul – who was still sitting up for whatever reason, supporting himself with shaking arms – made a soft, questioning sound. He even looked to Obi-Wan’s crotch with hazy, expectant eyes.

Obi-Wan wondered sometimes if Maul could actually _scent_ his arousal.

“You go to sleep,” Obi-Wan said. The words were hard to bite out, but he didn’t want Maul to get him off just because he felt obliged to. He knew full well how sleepy the Zabrak became after orgasm. “I can sort myself out.”

But Maul whined and sat forward, reaching out for his Jedi unsteadily.

Obi-Wan’s cock twitched hard at the sight. Maul was so _eager_ that night…

“Okay,” Obi-Wan said after a few moments consideration. “Okay.”

He helped Maul off the side of the bed and onto his knees, stroking lightly over the Sith’s exposed shoulders to settle him. Maul looked up at him, tilting his head with groggy curiosity.

 “Stay,” Obi-Wan commanded. “You needn’t do anything else. Just stay there for me.”

Rendered docile by his own climax, Maul obeyed. He trembled and swayed a little on the spot, drowsy but eager to please Kenobi – who, for his part, had unceremoniously wrenched his cock free of the confines of his tunic and was pumping it with rare abandon. The human alternated between throwing his head back and dipping it forwards, clenching his teeth and grunting as he rushed towards orgasm. Just as Obi-Wan’s movements were becoming erratic in that tell-tale way, the human reached out and fixed his free hand beneath Maul’s chin, applying pressure as if to urge him up.

“Sit up,” Obi-Wan said, voice quaking. “Sit up on your knees, gorgeous –“

Maul did as commanded, raising up from his sitting kneel so that he was at eye-level with Obi-Wan’s lower stomach. He anticipated that the human wanted to finish in his mouth – but no sooner had Maul parted his lips slightly, expectantly, did Obi-Wan utter a ruined groan, hips staggering forwards with the dramatic finality of orgasm.

A moment later, Maul felt the staggered splatters of several shots of warm, viscous fluid against his chest.

Obi-Wan had come on him.

Maul blinked, perplexed. That was… new.

A few moments after he’d spent the last of his seed, Obi-Wan relinquished the light grip he’d maintained on Maul’s chin, causing the dozy Sith to fall forwards a little before righting himself. Maul looked up at him with dark, docile eyes – so sweet and lovely and meekly accepting. Not content to just appreciate the pretty picture he’d painted over Maul’s spent chest from a visual standpoint, Obi-Wan reached down and dragged a hand through the cum, slow, lewd and self-indulgent. Maul tracked the movement with his eyes. He seemed quite bemused as to what it was all about – so Obi-Wan couldn’t have anticipated that Maul would lean forwards as he began to retract his hand and swipe his tongue over his cum-slick fingers.

Obi-Wan froze, hardly able to believe it. Maul gave another small, experimental lick, only slightly wrinkling his nose at the bitter taste, and glanced to Obi-Wan’s face for feedback. Taking note of the breathless wonder on Obi-Wan’s face, he took the human’s wrist in hand to better lap the cum away, working the wet muscle of his tongue between Kenobi’s digits and laving over the flat of his palm.

 “Good boy,” Obi-Wan said, voice trembling with disbelief. He reached out with his free hand and trailed his fingers gently around the base of one of Maul’s temple horns, just the way he knew his Zabrak liked it. “My good boy.”

A delighted shiver ran through Maul’s body at the touch and praise, and he lapped at Obi-Wan’s fingers with fresh enthusiasm, his animal mind thriving off the positive reinforcement.

As he watched Maul lick the last of his cum off his fingers, Obi-Wan found himself quite sure that the Zabrak (and all the quirks that came with him) had finally completely ruined him for sex with anyone else.

*******

The two somehow found their way back onto the bed in the minutes that followed, falling into their usual post-coital routine with Obi-Wan on clean-up duty and Maul laying back passively to allow the human ease of way.

 “Dare I ask _why_ you finished on me?” Maul said, quirking a brow at Obi-Wan as he mopped up what remained of the mess he’d made on his chest. His voice was still somewhat thin and shaky, the way it often was as it was returning during comedown.

Obi-Wan laughed.

“Oh, _please,_ Maul. I think a little cumshot like that is the least unconventional thing we indulged in tonight.”

Maul huffed, and said no more. Obi-Wan finished wiping his Sith off, tossed the soiled tissues haphazardly into a corner of the room where he assumed there might be a bin, then settled beside Maul.

“I won’t do it again if you don’t want me to,” Obi-Wan said after a few moments, moving a hand to pet apologetically over Maul’s taut abdomen. “Cum on you, I mean.”

Maul rolled one shoulder in a shrug.

“I’m not _opposed_ to it, as such. I just don’t understand the appeal.”

“Really? I thought you’d be rather invested in marking your partners, taking that possessive streak of yours into account.”

Maul seemed to consider this for a moment – and then it clicked.

“Oh,” he breathed, sounding suddenly rather taken with the concept.

Obi-Wan smiled, and pressed in to nuzzle Maul’s neck.

“You can come on my face next time,” he said, enjoying the little quiver of anticipation that ran though his partner. “I think you’d like that.”

Maul mewled affirmatively. The two laid still and content for a while, basking in their mutual afterglow; but, after a few minutes had passed, Maul shifted onto his side, presenting his back to Obi-Wan. A swell of affection rose in Obi-Wan’s chest; this was a relatively new behaviour (Maul had only starting offering it a couple of sessions back, in fact) and it was one that Obi-Wan liked to fancy as being a marker of trust. A Sith such as Maul was surely _never_ meant to put himself at the potential mercy of a Jedi – even one so fatally flawed and treacherous as Kenobi – and yet, there he was. Obi-Wan moved in behind him, pressing full-body against the Zabrak and slipping an arm around his waist. He kissed at the nape of Maul’s dark neck, delighting when a purr began to form in his companion’s chest.

Their lazy mutual silence resumed. After a little while – and some internal back-and-forth about whether or not he should broach the subject – Obi-Wan spoke up again.

 “Thank you, by the way.”

Maul wrinkled his nose slightly in confusion, twisting to look over his shoulder at Kenobi.

“What for?”

“For letting me help you. With your, er… condition, I mean.”

Maul rolled his eyes, though he had curled in on himself slightly, the way he usually did when bashful.

“Don’t patronise me, Kenobi. We both know that was more about feeding your distasteful fascination with non-human physiology than it was about ‘helping’ me.”

“Oh, Maul,” Obi-Wan sighed, mock-hurt. “You still think so _low_ of me.” He slyly trailed a hand up Maul’s torso, moving from his lower stomach until his fingers were brushing featherlight just beneath his pecs. “On the subject… just how frequently _does_ this occur?”

“It comes and goes,” Maul said, squirming deliciously in response to the touch. After a few moments, he stayed Obi-Wan’s hand with one of his own; pleasant as their earlier fun had been, his chest was quite thoroughly sore in the wake of it. “Though, I shouldn’t really encourage it the way we did. My supply is going to linger for _days_ now.”

Obi-Wan bit his lip at the mental image that popped into his head; Maul, trying desperately to focus on a mission as his chest ached and nipples leaked until even his outer robes were wet with milk. Would he yearn for the eager hands and mouth of his Jedi informant to relieve the pressure again?

Obi-Wan pushed the fantasy to the back of his head with the intention of revisiting it when Jedi business next proved inescapable for a long passage of time. He returned to the conversation at hand:

“Does that mean we might get to do this again?”

“Should fate have its way, then perhaps.”

“Something to look forward to,” Obi-Wan said, smiling indulgently. Maul tutted, but his air was one of amiable amusement. He relaxed without resistance into Obi-Wan’s resumed embrace. Obi-Wan sighed contentedly, and then spoke again, his tone awash with fond sincerity: “You’re so wonderful, Maul.”

Maul blinked. He opened his mouth to offer a sarcastic retort, but shut it again when he could will no words out.

It wasn’t long before Kenobi’s breathing fell into a slow, even keel, signalling his descent into sleep. Maul followed soon after.

He slept more peacefully than he had in a very long time.

**Author's Note:**

> save a space-cow, milk a zabrak?
> 
> i want to forget i just typed that.
> 
> i'm going to sit in the shame cube now and think about what i've done.
> 
> on another note, i am willing to write smut for a fair few kinks; if there's anything you're wanting for as far as star wars goes, hit me up with the kink and pairing, and i might just write something for it if it interests me!! 
> 
> you can find me at [titivillus.tumblr.com](http://titivillus.tumblr.com)~


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